When A Curse Goes Wrong
by SpazzyRussian
Summary: Italy manages to anger England at a World Conference. England proceeds to use his occultic habits to the fullest, and curses the little nation. Oh dear...Germany's in for quite a shock. Rated T for unmentionables and gender confusion. Fem!involved.
1. First Curse

When a Curse Goes Wrong

Author's Note: Hey! What's up. The sky. My boring, boring ceiling. Whatever. So anyway, if you're actually reading this shit, wanna know how I came up with this really, really stupid story? Seeing as you're still here, I'm assuming so. So anyway, I was having some _seriously_ bad cramps, and I was like ?hy don't men have to go through this crap, dammit? I'll have England place a curse on them so every man will have a period and go through what women do...***grumble grumble* **So I'm back to my usual, cheerful, sunny disposition now, yay! But the idea stuck in my head. And yeah, this was born.

Please note! I DO make a reference to World War Two and the Holocaust. I'm aware that this may be upsetting to some people, the way it is brought up. Please keep in mind that I did not mean it for it to sound any such way. I'm assuming that the Allies may harbor some kind of vendetta against Germany for what happened in the past, but don't dare say it. Please excuse any bluntness.

Warnings: Genderbend, fail cursing (the magical kind...), naughty language, details of a woman's coming of age, England being a pissy idiot and making nasty WW2 references, etc. :|

Number of Words: 719 (After Chapter One)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own cursing of any kind or genderbending. Genderbendation. Whatever.

Chapter One:

Location: World Conference in London, England.

"You bloody fucking idiot! How in the name of the queen are we going to build a gigantic hero out of nothing to shield the Earth from the Sun? Not only would that stop global warming, it'd stop any heat or light from reaching the bloody planet at all!" England screamed at top volume. He was sick and tired of his son saying such stupid things, in front of people he knew!

"We'll make it out of pure awesomeness!" America declared.

"Hear, hear!" Prussia concurred in the noisy background.

England sputtered. "How in the hell are you even going to do that, you bloody wanker?"

Germany sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His doctor had told him that even though he was a nation, his body could still have human sickness and weaknesses, and that if he didn't stop screaming at a conference room full of people, his anger would raise his blood pressure to dangerously high levels. Not to mention that his yelling scared Italy. He was doing his best to keep his temper under control, but it was so _hard_ to do, especially with this happening.

He removed his hand from his face and faced the two blondes. "Gentlemen, can we please just settle down and handle this diplomatically? You're being a bit ridiculous."

England spun on his heel, taking out all his pent-up anger on the poor German in swoop. "DON'T tell me what to do, you bloody FUCKING _NAZI_!"

The room went silent. Unusually so. Everyone could hear the Brit huffing in outrage, North Italy slurping his bowl of pasta, America whistling long and low at the extreme insult, and Germany simply standing there in shock. True, his boss had orchestrated the death of over 9 million people, but did England really believe that he, as the country avatar, had much choice? It hurt him, hurt more than anyone could imagine, every time each one of his people were killed in such horrible ways.

You could have heard a pin drop. But instead of a pin dropping, a chair scraped against the carpet. Italy had gotten out of his seat and was making his way towards the front of the room, twirling pasta on his fork.

Everyone thought that he was probably going to give Germany a hug, tell him that he loved him, and offer him some pasta since it made the world go 'round. But was happened next was quite a shocker.

Italy walked right past Germany, and stood in front of England. And dumped the contents of his bowl over the Brit's head.

England blinked repeatedly, tomato sauce sliding down his cheek. The long, slippery, cheese and tomato sauce-covered noodles proceeded to slide off his head into his lap. On an Armani suit. Goddammit.

The room was still frozen as if General Winter had paid a visit, even in the dead middle of summer. Italy skipped back to his seat, glomping Germany on his way back and happily swinging his now-empty bowl back and forth as he sat down.

The silence was broken by the deep, throaty laughing of one Francis Bonnefoy. He slapped the table, leaning over, unable to catch his breath. Canada patted his back as he wheezed and coughed, laughter dying down and re-erupting every time he looked at the Englishman, who was still blinking in confusion.

Alfred had already taken several pictures with his camera phone and forwarded them to everyone in his address book.

"Oh, mon ami! He really got you. Little harmless Italy! Who knew!" France choked out.

England furrowed his thick eyebrows. What the bloody hell had just happened? How had Italy, _Italy _of all people, embarrased him so? The little brunette had always been terrified by him. It seemed that whenever Germany was threatened, Italy had newfound strength. Or something like that.

But now it was not America who was the laughingstock of the room. No, the one all the countries were laughing at and pointing their fingers at? Yes, it was him.

His blood boiled and absolute fury raced through every vein in his body. Oh, Italy would pay. He would pay dearly for his actions.

And with those angered, evil thoughts, he stormed out of the room, concluding the meeting.


	2. Second Curse

When a Curse Goes Wrong

Author's Note: Yeah. Hope you enjoyed the first upsetting chapter! (One of many, coughcough whut I didn't say nuthin.) This is kind of a really short chapter. Sorry. D: I've been really busy with school and making my cosplay for NYAF that I haven't had much time to add on to my other stories.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I've told you this a million times, you friggin copyright. :( England shall curse you for this.

Warnings: England failing at cursing, lots more naughty language, scary scary eyebrows, Russia, stuff.

Number of Words: 489

Chapter Two:

England muttered incomprehensible incantations under his breath. Whether it was a foreign language, or something much, much older, no one was around to hear it.

Draped in what looked like a black sheet (or perhaps a Snuggie) that covered all but his hands and face, England slowly raised his arm dramatically as he muttered the strange words.

Scattered around the room were deep violet and burgundy candles of various shapes and sizes, casting an ominous glow upon the room. More black sheets covered the floor and furniture. Arthur didn't want any candle wax dripping on his hardwood floor, of course.

He ceased the chanting and glanced at the chalk lines and curves on the floor. He had practically ran away once he left the room in the most dignified manner he could after having pasta dumped on his head. Changing quickly, he had assembled all his occult objects in his special room upstairs. Barely even glancing at the thick black book he grabbed off the concealed shelf, he flipped open the book and studied the strange letters in the dim light. He was quite certain that this was a spell guaranteed to give Italy bad luck and ill health, perhaps for the rest of his life. Which, seeing as he was a country, quite long.

The white chalk on the black fabric began to glow a menacing shade of violet as they began to glow.

"Yes! Yes!" England hissed through his teeth. "It's working! This will show them..."

And Russia's head popped through the floor. England froze.

"You sure you want to do this, da?" Russia smiled.

England almost popped a vein on his forehead. "You _AGAIN_! What have I told you about staying out of my occult business, Russia?"

Russia smiled creepily. "You sure you want to place this curse on Italy-chan?" he asked again.

"Yes, yes! Just get on with it already!" he was on the verge of yelling, eyebrows looking like large, angry caterpillars glued to his face. Ew.

Russia nodded as best he could with his head stuck through the floor. "Da." All the lights went out, and reignited seconds later. Russia was gone, the chalk marks on the floor smudged every which way.

England let a breath out through his nose, satisfied. His curse should accordingly take place the next morning. Seeing as his entire family—even that _bloody frog_, who he thought had his back—had simply laughed at his odd interest in the occult and dismissed it as madness, none would think all the wiser when Arthur would stride in happy as can be the next morning so he could gloat at a sick, weak Feliciano.

He slammed the book shut in a puff of dust and blew out all the candles after yanking the sheets off of everything.

He left the room, very satisfied with his supposed success. Oh, how wrong he would be.


	3. Third Curse

When a Curse Goes Wrong

Author's Note: Writing this in the middle of the night because I SWEAR I have mild insomnia. Please blame my very tired self for any crap writing.

PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! I can always improve my writing. I love it when you guys leave me those things. So please do.

Warning: Mention of something girls go through every month...any guys reading, brace yourselves. Also, Germany and Hungary have potty mouths.

Disclaimer: Even I owned Hetalia, I'd probably still write crap fanfiction, but sadly enough? I don't.

Number of Words: 1678

Chapter Three:

Italy opened his eyes.

Light streamed gently through the slightly open blinds of the hotel room, illuminating everything in it's path.

England had sighed and handed over the arrangements for hotels over to a very, VERY happy Hungary, who had immediately placed Germany and Italy in the same hotel room. With only one bed. A large, plush, king-size bed.

Italy turned on his side to gaze at Germany, sound asleep next to him. This was one of the few rare times he had woken up before Ludwig. The stoic German man looked so peaceful when he slept, so vulnerable. Feliciano giggled and poked at his forehead, where there was normally a large crease from stress. It was all smoothed out, his entire face relaxed as he dreamed.

Funny how Doitsu looked like someone Italy could just barely remember when his hair wasn't swept back. Now, just who...if only Italy could remember...

Italy hadn't realized he had scrunched his eyes shut in deep concentration as he tried to recall the long-lost memories of his first true love, but he noticed when he snapped them open in shock. A strange, metallic scent filled the room. What was that? It was familiar, so much more familiar than that blond-haired boy with the black cloak. Italy grabbed his stomach, and sudden contraction paining him greatly. Something he ate? Maybe, or perhaps he was just hungry.

Italy threw back the covers so he could get out of bed, and screamed.

The sheets around his legs were absolutely soaked with blood. Some of it was dried and crusting already, most still a violent shade of red. Where was it coming from? He screamed again and started to cry, confused and scared.

His screaming woke Germany. Who turned over. And saw the blood. And screamed along with him.

"Feli! Feli! What the fuck? What happened? Are you alright?" Ludwig panicked, grabbing Italy by the shoulders, almost shaking him back and forth.

"I don't know," Italy sobbed. "Doitsu, I don't know, I'm scared. What do I dooo..." he leaned his head onto Germany's shoulder, crying hysterically.

Ludwig flicked his eyes around the room and grabbed a robe. "Stay right here, Feli. Don't move, I'll get someone to help. Okay?"

The crying Italian boy nodded and continued to loud, convulsive gasps, tears streaming down his face.

Germany raced to the door, ripped it open, and sprinted down the hall.

Reaching what he hoped was the right room, he began to pound on the door. "Hungary! Hungary, wake up! Please, you have to help me!"

"...gimme a m'nite..." someone grumbled through the door.

Several locks clicked, and the door swung inwards. Elizabeta glared at the taller German man, instantly making him feel very, very small.

"I was _sleeping_. Most people are at..." she leaned over to check the clock on the mantle. "Five oh six in the fucking morning."

As she leaned over, Germany caught a glimpse of Roderich's bare back, his lower half covered by sheets, and probably only those. He blushed. Of course. He had forgotten that Hungary had made the room arrangements.

Still blushing he began to protest. "I-I'm sorry. It's just, just, Feliciano, he's bleeding everywhere and we don't know what happened, he just started screaming and crying and it woke me up and I have no idea what's going on..."

Hungary practically slammed the door shut behind her and grabbed Germany by the upper arm. "Why didn't you just say so? My baby could be hurt!" she scolded him, not letting on that she was as scared as he was.

"I'm sorry, just, can you help?" Ludwig finished lamely.

Elizabeta paused as they strode down the hallway at a brisk pace. "I'll see what I can do."

Germany quickly slid his card key in and out, and pushed open the door with his shoulder. A strong scent of blood wafted over them as they entered the room and quickly shut the door behind them.

Feliciano would have normally jumped up and hugged the Hungarian woman, but right now, he was much to occupied groaning and clutching his stomach, curled up on the blood covered sheets.

"...oh dear sweet fuck." Hungary hurried over to the moaning boy and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. "Oh, honey, what's wrong?" she murmured soothingly.

Italy hitched a sob in his throat. "I, I don't knowww..." he moved one of his hands to wipe away his tears. "It just hurts so much...please, make it stop..."

Hungary continued to whisper comforting things to him. "Show me where it hurts, love. Where is the pain coming from?"

Italy weakly gestured to his lower stomach.

Elizabeta's eyebrows knitted together. The symptoms seemed remarkably like...but no way!

"Germany," she said quietly, but very seriously. "I need you to leave the room for a minute."

Ludwig nodded his head once and left the room as quickly as possible. He wanted to be there for his little Italian, but the smell of blood was getting to his head and he knew he couldn't help and would only get in the way if he didn't do what Hungary told him.

"Feli," Hungary said as soon as Ludwig left. "I need you to take off your shirt, just for a second, please."

Italy had some trouble with this, seeing as his arms never seemed to want to stray far from cradling his stomach. After some struggling, he got it off.

_Oh shit_. Hungary thought. _I was right._

All those years ago, when Italy was still very young and worked for her husband, Roderich, Elizabeta had always put Feli in adorable girl's clothing. Even Austria didn't know Italy was a boy until he had his growth spurt and his voice got deeper. Not to mention that it had been so cute, watching the Holy Roman Empire think Italy was a girl. True love was so cute.

But now, it seemed that Feliciano actually _was_ a girl. For certain, he had developed a curve to his chest that no man ever possessed, and the blood, the cramps, it was only explainable as a period.

"Italy, please go take a shower. It will get rid of the blood smell and the steam will help your cramps. Just...tell me if you notice anything _different_ about your body, okay?" she hinted.

Feliciano nodded slowly and began to drag himself to the bathroom. Hungary quickly stripped the bed, glad the blood hadn't leaked through to the mattress before Italy had noticed.

She put them in the hamper for maintenance to gather and wash and gently unlocked the door when she heard the water in the shower turn on.

"Ludwig, I have to talk to you." she monotoned.

Germany spun around. "Will he be okay? What's wrong? Please tell me! Is this serious?"

Hungary pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm not quite sure how to explain this..." she said hesitantly.

"Just, what is it?" Ludwig continued to panic as Hungary pulled him inside the room.

"Brace yourself. She's going to be cranky and this will last at least several days each month. Tea and hot compresses on her lower stomach are good. Be patient with her, it's not something women have control over."

Germany was shell shocked. "How...How can Italy be a girl?" his voice trembled. He was on the verge of a melt down. "I should know! He's slept in my bed a thousand times, he's even insisted we take baths together! I know!"

Hungary pinched her nose shut to prevent herself from nosebleeding when he mentioned them taking baths together. Crap, she wouldn't be able to get any pictures of it now.

"I really don't know," she sighed once the urge to violently nosebleed was over. "It's so...odd. I mean, we all thought he was a girl when he was younger, but it eventually became obvious that he was a boy, but there isn't any explanation for this at all."

Italy ran out of the bathroom screaming, covered from collarbone to mid-thigh in a towel.

"Doitsu, doitsu!" he sobbed.

"Err...Feli, shouldn't you be wearing clothes?" Germany protested, feeling odd at Feli running around practically naked now that he was a girl.

"B-b-but Germany! What's going on? Feel!" Feliciano half-screamed.

He grabbed the unsuspected German man's hand and placed it on his curved chest.

"I have _boobs_!" he sobbed.

Germany's face was a very nice shade of maroon, and he tried to pull his hand away but Italy was simply too strong. For once in his life, he couldn't overpower the little Italian, and in such an awkward situation, things were made worse.

Hungary facepalmed. "Feli, love, you can't just _do_ that. It's inappropriate for girls to make guys feel their chests. Unless they're being intimate. Which you sure as hell aren't doing with me in the room or with you on your period."

Feli nodded spastically. "I know! I have...girl parts. Why?" he—_she _started to cry again.

Elizabeta sighed. "We don't know. But while you're like this, we may as well go over stuff you'll need to know. We also need to go shopping, those men's clothes won't fit you anymore."

She put her arm around the smaller girl's shoulder while she grabbed another robe from the bathroom and draped it around her towelled body. "Here, love," she said. "Come with me, I'll teach you about this kind of thing."

She glanced back at Germany before she left. "You should probably get dressed, we're going to go shopping soon. You're coming." ignoring his objections, she escorted Italy out of the room.

Ludwig sat down on the edge of the stripped bed and dropped his face into his hands. How the hell was he going to handle something like this? Not to mention that South Italy was going to _kill_ him.


	4. Fourth Curse

When a Curse Goes Wrong

Author's Note: It seems that I keep getting sick lately. First it was from stress, and now it's my sinuses because of all the rain and cold. T^T I'm sorry updates are so slow on things that should be a lot faster. I'm getting going on Taking Back again, and if Lord-Cupcake permits it, maybe Smiling Back when I'm done. I actually have to do it first, though. :|

This is totally filler with lots of embarrassment and a little fluff. I promise I'll get back on track ASAP.

Number of Words: 1552

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. No matter how many times I say it, I still have to. Ah, the power of words.

Chapter 4

"Twirl for me, hon." Hungary make a spinning motion with her finger as she propped her other hand on her hip and looked at the younger woman.

"Kay!" Italy began to spin around and around at top speed, the skirt she was trying on flaring out from around her knees up to...oh god, that was WAY too high, Ludwig thought. He could see her red, white, and green panties from here. He buried his face in his hands.

After the incident that morning, Hungary had taken Italy shopping; her old clothes would no longer fit her, and they decided that they may as well take full advantage of the situation. Why Germany had been invited along, he wasn't sure. Whether because it was because he had a big, shiny platinum credit card or because Hungary had alternative intentions (see panty flash above), Germany wasn't sure. Probably the credit card, he reasoned.

"Whooa~ah," finally stopping her incessant twirling, Italy dizzily staggered around.

Veering off to the side, she would have crashed into a rack of clothes had Ludwig not anticipated the crash and caught her before she fell.

"Ve~, Ludwig! _Grazie_." she grinned up at him.

Ludwig blushed and propped Italy on her feet. "It's...it's no problem. Here, go try on some pants or something," he said, shoving the first articles of clothing at her without looking at them properly.

"Ve~, but Ludwig, these are..." the little Italian protested as the German steered her back towards the changing partition.

Once she was inside and changing once again, he slumped back down into his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. Who knew Italians could be so hard on the health? Feliciano was sure to land him in the hospital one of these days from pure exhaustion alone. The happy little boy—now girl—was so energetic, it wasn't even funny.

"Uhh...I'm done changing..." Italy called out, her voice now a little unsure of itself, a great change from the happy disposition of five minutes ago.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come on out," Hungary said.

When Feliciano emerged from behind the curtain, Ludwig managed to hold back a gasp, but he couldn't restrain the extreme blush that crossed his features. Who knew those kinds of clothes were even _in_ the pile in the first place?

Italy tugged nervously at the hem of the cropped shirt that ended just above the waistline of her super low, super tight skinny jeans. The tank top, in addition to just barely covering her stomach, dipped low in the chest, showing off an expanse of cleavage that Ludwig was _sure_ was considered indecent exposure. It was also very...clingy. In all the right places, too. The skinny jeans were a whole other story. They were so tight, they looked as if they had been painted on. Not only that, but decorative slashes in the fabric that stretched across the thighs made sure that there was more skin shown than covered.

"Ooh, Ludwig! Who knew you had such taste in women's clothing!" Hungary clapped her hands together as Ludwig attempted to blend into the wall.

"Alrighty, we'll get everything!" Hungary continued happily, now addressing the store assistant. Ludwig's eyes went wide, but didn't protest. He'd rather deal with bad credit than risk being acquainted with Hungary's frying pan. The store clerk shot him a sympathetic look while she began to ring up the pile of clothes.

.oO0Oo.

Italy pranced out of the door, holding a small shopping bag, turning on her heel to watch Ludwig stagger out the same door, buried in several industrial-size shopping bags with the store's logo splashed across the front. Hungary was tapping her foot impatiently behind him, obviously not pleased with his lack of speed.

"Hm, where to next?" Hungary muttered. "Ah!"

She had spotted a store across the street, and grabbed Italy's free wrist. "We're going there next!" she said, pointing towards the pink and lighter pink striped awning.

Ludwig gaped behind the pile of bags and blushed furiously. "I am _not_ going into Victoria's Secret with you!"

Hungary gave him a weird look. "No one said you had to. You can just sit on the bench outside and wait for us. I'll sign for your credit card."

Left with no other options, Germany sighed and handed over his credit cards. Depositing the bags on the bench and sidewalk around him, he sat down on the bench and clasped his hands together with his head down, praying to God that no one he knew would walk by.

God apparently had the day off.

"Ah, _Alemania_, _mon ami_!" a familiar blonde waved his arm from about halfway down the block and jogged up to him.

Ludwig's attempts to sink into the bench and simply melt away were unnoticed as the Frenchman stood in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Francis asked.

Germany mumbled something incomprehensible and motioned to the bench space next to him, indication that Francis should sit.

As France took his seat and began to chatter about completely irrelevant things, Ludwig's mind began to wander. _Do we tell him, or do we just let him see Feliciano? Will he be a big mouth? Aw, everyone's gonna find out anyways...what the hey._

"Ah? Yeah, sure," Germany responded to whatever Francis was saying.

Francis gave him a weird look and dropped his head so the two Europeans were eye level. "I'm...not quite sure if you heard my question, Germany, since you appear to be lost in thought. I _said_, have you and Italy gone all the way yet?"

Germany sputtered and shot backwards. "Wait, WHAT?" he shouted. "What gives you that idea?"

Francis leered. "Oh please, I am the country of _l'amour_! I do believe I know what I am talking about. So give me the details!" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm only a couple of rooms away from you...I heard all that screaming in pleasure this morning."

"What? I!" Ludwig stammered. "We haven't done anything! Anything at all!" Francis misinterpreted Italy's frantic, distressed screaming and Germany's deep roar as a synonym for...oh geezus. This was going to be a bitch to explain.

France sighed. "Try to deny it as much as you may, but _onii-san_ knows all~" he waved his hands pointlessly in the air.

"Luddy!" Feliciano and Hungary emerged from the shop, a large pink bag now in Feli's hands. As she skipped over to Germany and smothered his head in a hug, France's perfectly manicured eyebrows rose into his hairline.

"Mmmph mmmmMMPH!" Germany's arms flailed, not quite sure how to tell Feli to stop suffocating him with her now ample chest.

Hungary thankfully knew what was wrong, and pulled the happy Italian off of Ludwig.

"Care to explain?" France said lightly when Ludwig regained his breath.

Hungary raised her eyebrows at Germany, France gave him an intense gaze, and Feli Ve~'d.

.oO0Oo.

"So...you're telling me...that for whatever reason, Feliciano Vargas is now a woman." France sipped at his coffee. He grimaced and dropped in two sugars, he just didn't take his coffee black.

"That's it, in a nutshell." Germany sighed and crossed his arms.

They had found a noisy little cafe in the busy streets of London and had requested seats outside, where no one could overhear their conversation, with what how loud the streets were. Ludwig had Francis sit down and with some help from Elizabeta and Feli, recapped the morning's events. As of yet, no one had an explanation for why such a thing that happened, only that it had.

France sighed. "Even a nation as old as I does not know. You may want to check with someone even older, just in case. Maybe Israel. She's been around for five thousand years, she's bound to know. Or even Greece, or Egypt." He sighed. "A shame the Roman Empire and Germania aren't around anymore."

Germany frowned deeply. "I don't want to get any more people involved. You finding out was purely an accident."

"But they have to know _eventually_," France pointed out. "We have a meeting tomorrow morning. Unless you magically find the solution by tomorrow morning, which is extremely unlikely, there's no way to hide it. Better sooner than later, as they say."

Hungary shook her head. "Not really. The more people that know, the more that will try to take advantage of the situation."

"Ve?" Italy looked up from her espresso.

The three elder nations looked away from the brunette. If they had to explain what the "situation" was and _who_ would take advantage of her and exactly _how_ they would do it, it wasn't worth the time and headache.

"All I know is one thing for sure," France smirked as he raised the cup to his lips.

Germany's gaze shot up from his beer to France's face. "What? What is it?" he said frantically.

"You're going to go through a _shitload_ of hell tomorrow at the meeting when South Italy finds out what happens to his brother." the Frenchman laughed.

Germany groaned. _Why_ did they keep having to remind him?

**A/N: Oooh, foreshadowing! Scarrrry. I took a suggestion from one of my wonderful reviewers (I am sorry that I do not have internet as I type this, but I'll totally give her credit when I do and put her awesome name at the beginning of the next chapter!**

**Please review! **


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